Liar
by LitLove
Summary: Five times Lisbon and Jane catch each other lying about something, and the one time they don't. - Jane/Lisbon troughout the show and beyond. Slightly AU.


**A/N:** After watching every single episode in the last couple of weeks and falling totally in love with the show I simply had to write something for them. It's mostly in a happy and light spirit, they have enought drama and angst on the show. ;)

Oh, and the parts are in cronological order, but that's just for the better understanding.

That's already all I have to say. Ah, yes! Nearly forgot: The biggest Thank you to my lovely beta **Kassandra**! You rock, sister! ;)

Hope you enjoy! Would love to hear what you think about it! Reviews are love.

*waves and jumps out*

**Disclaimer:** *huff* As if! If the show would've been mine I at least made sure Jane and Lisbon acknowledged the thing he told her in last seasons finale. He didn't, therefore: Not mine.

* * *

**LIAR**

* * *

**I. **

"We spend a lot of time together and when she's unhappy … uhm, I'm less happy."

The moment the words leave his mouth he's sure that this wasn't really wise to say. It's the first time he doesn't feel he's outmatching Hightower, and _that_ really bothers him. He's the witty one, the charming, flirty, challenging one. The one who sees the flaws, and secrets, and insecurities in people. The ex-conman who still has more than one trick up his sleeve.

But this time he actually has an equal opponent and that kinda took him by surprise. Not even the "_that's human nature_" he's chipping in immediately after his verbal slip will save him now. The damage is done: Patrick Jane showed concern and affection, and most likely it will bite him in the ass.

And by the look Madeline gives him he knows that she won this round.

Well, fine. He is human after all, and even _The Boy Wonder_ is not immune to making mistakes sometimes. Hightower may have won the battle, but she surely will lose the war (and if she keeps up with this behavior it _will_ be war). He's still capable of turning this situation around. Now more than ever, because he really doesn't like to be played. Especially concerning things he cares about.

And when it comes to Lisbon, Jane cares a lot. He will stop at nothing.

**oOo**

"I'm always going to save you Lisbon, whether you like it or not."

They are stuck in a container somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with no water, no food, and the sun heating the air to a 200 degrees windchill factor.

He blames the circumstances that yet another confession slips over his lips within a couple of days of doing the same in front of Hightower. What's wrong with him?

Lisbon just smiles and explains something about that she doesn't need saving, that she knows what she got herself into the day she signed on with him, and that at some point it would end in disaster and with her losing her job over him.

"Some people might ask why you signed on with me in the first place."

He can't help to ask, craves for her answer in an unknown way. His palms start to sweat, his heart rate triples. Is the heat catching up on him?

"You catch a lot of bad guys. Most days that's enough. Also I can …"

He interrupts her because he hears a goat baa and for the time being he doesn't think about their conversation, he's just relieved that they got saved.

Only when they sit in the car on their way to the Mexican-American-Border his mind drifts back to it and he mentally calls himself stupid. Why didn't he let her finish the sentence and _then_ interrupt her? The boy with the goat would've still been there 10 seconds later. Now he will never know what she wanted to confess.

It's her soft voice right beside him, in the backseat of the car, which pulls him out of his thoughts and he turns his head to look at her.

"I can't imagine _not_ working with you, Jane. Yes, you annoy me often, and you don't play by the rules, and you triple my workload, and you make my life way more complicated. But you also make it more enjoyable," she smiles at him, her head lying on the top of the backrest, "That's what I wanted to tell you before we got rescued."

Jane's taken aback. Never in a million years he would've thought that that's what she would say, moreover bring the topic of their prior conversation up again on her own. He tries to compose himself, and finally he's able to smile back at her.

A moment later they turn their heads away from each other and look at the passing scenery again.

Only when they have to switch cars at the borders they register that somehow at some point their hands intertwined on the seat in between them.

**oOo**

Later that week, after her suspension is cleared, and they've returned safely from Mexico, and caught the murderer of Kelly Flower, and are back in the office, he's lying on _his_ couch in her office – seemingly deep in thought – while Lisbon's working on some files, a ghost of a smile on her lips. His eyes are closed, his hands are folded on top of his chest, he seems calm and collected, but inside a thousand and one things keep him from falling into a light slumber. And it's not only the verbal slip in front of Hightower, nor the verbal slip in front of her, or them holding hands subconsciously.

It's also the fact that only minutes ago they were standing in front of each other, a full blast smile on Lisbon's face he didn't know the background of, and a mischievousness in her aura he seldom feels.

"I appreciate your concern, Jane. But as already said, I'm really capable of looking out for myself," she starts, eyes sparkling with mirth and something else … pleasure?

"My, my … whatever are you talking about?"

She laughs when she sits down, the smile now teasing, "There was really no need for you to talk to Hightower."

He reacts fast, and hopes she didn't see the surprise flashing over his face when she confessed her knowledge about his talk with their boss.

"Meh … no talking, my dear," he replies while stepping over to the couch, "We simply exchanged opinions on certain aspects of interest."

Lisbon nods slightly, takes her pen and starts to work, softly whispering under her breath, "Liar, liar, pants on fire."

Jane is so taken aback, he doesn't even know how to respond, so he simply grins once at her (what else should he do?) and afterwards lies back down in the position he's been holding for over 20 minutes now. How does this woman always manage to catch him off guard when he the least expects it? He's seriously in trouble and really needs to learn to control his emotions about and around her. Not that he's not enjoying their banter. And her hand felt really nice clutched in his bigger one. And she most definitely makes his life way more enjoyable than before he met her. But he's here for a reason, and Jane feels the more time he spends with the Senior Agent, the more his goal for vengeance takes a back seat. And he can't allow that. He owes that to his family.

Nevertheless once again Jane realizes what an amazing woman Teresa Lisbon is, and for once he doesn't even mind that his heart starts to flutter every time she's around.

* * *

**II.**

A building exploded while she was in there. They have a case with all kind of different leads and it somehow doesn't make any sense. And on top of it there's a charming, good looking Millionaire who has the hots for _his_ Lisbon.

Jane is not amused. Maybe he doesn't show it, but the green-eyed monster inside him wants to punch Walter Mashburn in the face. And the worst part of it: Lisbon seems flattered.

And he doesn't get it. Men flirt with her all the time. Why does it need to be a Millionaire with way too much charm to make her see how incredible, how _desirable_ she is?

What about _him_? Doesn't she see he's trying? The origami-frog, the pony, the restaurant in Napa? The new couch for her office he ordered just the day before and which should arrive in the next couple of weeks? Okay, there's no possible way she knows about the couch, but that's so not the point. And he admits, when he made that origami-frog, and when he bought that pony, and when he chose that restaurant, he still was in denial about his feelings, the guilt toward his family too big to allow any of these thoughts about the Senior Agent. Nevertheless his intentions were true.

Doesn't she know that he's not the one for grand gestures? That he loves the details in things? Like when he bought her the pony, it was because she had once told him, when she was six her biggest wish was to have one so she could ride to school on it. Or the restaurant in Napa he choose because he knew they made the best chocolate soufflé in all of California, and Lisbon would _kill_ for her favorite dessert – metaphorically speaking.

Doesn't she know that he's confused about what he feels for her? That he sometimes feels like he's torn apart, waving between guilt and desire? Doesn't she recognize that he tries to come to terms with his past? That the thought about vengeance slowly, but still, loses its appeal, the more time he spends with her? Not only when working cases, but also in their spare time. When they go to the movies, or he invites her to dinner, or accompanies her to the shooting range.

Jane never thought that his goal to kill Red John, his thirst to revenge his family's murders, would come to a stop because of the disappointment in the eyes of a woman, whose opinion he holds as high as his own, every time the topic comes to discussion. Maybe he holds it even higher, because Lisbon is his savior. She's his anchor, his safe haven, his best friend.

He's probably a little ashamed of it, but not even his wife's opinion mattered as much to him as Lisbon's. Of course he loved Angela. She and Charlotte were his life. But his love for Angela was different than the feelings he has for Lisbon now. Back then he was a different person. He was selfish. Arrogant. _Narcissistic_. His love for himself was more important than the love for his wife and daughter.

Maybe that was also the main reason why he felt so ashamed after their death. Red John had killed his family, while he was too occupied with himself.

But with Lisbon it's different. There's no career in his way, he doesn't need assurance from everyone around him, he likes the work he's doing. Finally he's one of the good guys, catches murderers, and kidnappers, and rapists, and drug dealers. He's finally doing something meaningful, together with her and the team.

He has real friends now.

Friends who care about him. Who look after him. Who have his best intentions in mind. Not those pseudo-associates from before, who were gone faster than the blink of an eye when the disaster with Red John happened.

Now is also the first time in nearly eight years since his wife and daughter died, that he thinks about an _after_. About a life _after_ Red John is no longer, _after_ his debts toward his family are paid, _after_ his soul finds peace again, ready to enjoy life in its fullest. And every single time Lisbon is in his picture of the _after_.

For him, _she _is the only possible_ after_.

And yet she bats her eyelashes when that Mashburn-type is around (she only ever bats her eyelashes at him when she wants to get information about his next stunt out of him), her cheeks tint in a slight blush (she only ever blushes out of anger when it comes to him), her eyes sparkle mischievously (she only ever gives him a mischievous glint when he outwits someone she doesn't like, or when one of his outrageous plans really worked, or when she's amused about one of his card tricks).

It drives him nuts. So when they stand in front of that obnoxious country club (a club he surely would have been a member of before Red John) and he tells Walter something about dilating pupils, Jane can't stop himself and looks curiously back and forth between Mashburn and Lisbon. Did her pupils really just dilate when hers and the Millionaires eyes met? With Walter he's sure, he doesn't even have to take a look. The guy is as subtle as a fart at a funeral. But not _his_ Lisbon!

Doesn't she see how _his_ eyes dilate every time he looks at her?

"Are you coming or are you gonna stay in front of the gate for the rest of the afternoon?"

Jane puts a smirk on his face (although he feels miserable), and jogs up to her.

Seriously, doesn't she get it?

**oOo**

Okay, she is going to kill him. This time for real.

Doesn't he realize that she's not in the least bit interested in Walter Mashburn? Okay, yes, she feels flattered that a rich, handsome Millionaire pays attention to her. He's really charming, and very obliging, but he's simply not her type. And okay, she nearly took a bullet for him.

But how often did she risk her life for Jane already? It must be in the hundreds.

And now Jane pronounces to a couple hundred of rich, influential people at a party, that she's Mashburn's new girlfriend. And how ridiculous does he look when he does it, flaunting his arms around like she's some kinda trophy, calling her "number one" or whatever.

And afterwards he just _leaves_. Leaves her alone with a bunch of people congratulating her. Leaves her to sit through sentences like 'You sure caught yourself a big fish there, Miss Lisbon.' or 'The both of you sure make a handsome couple.'.

She's furious, but can't show it. At least not at the moment.

But patience is a virtue, and when she's finally back at HQ (a screaming, cursing, _crazy_ German model in tow), her first instinct is to load her gun and shoot a bullet through her consultant's knee. He's the last one in the bullpen, her team already gone for the night.

"Jane!"

"Good evening, my dear! How was the rest of the party? Did you have fun?"

"Keep mentioning that party and you won't see the sun rise again."

"Aw, how very poetic of you, Lisbon," she didn't like the smirk on his face, "How's the boyfriend?"

"Oh, thanks, he's perfect. And all his friends were lovely, I felt very welcomed after 150 people approached me and congratulated me on my '_perfect catch_'. Walter even asked me if I want to go to Italy with him. I'm considering to accept."

"I'm so happy you had a wonderful time," the blonde pauses, and sits up, "So, Italy? Sounds nice."

Okay, is she mistaken or does he suddenly sound … _pissed_?

Lisbon takes a better look. His whole demeanor screams nonchalance, but his eyes burn with such passion, she nearly gasps at him. Nevertheless she keeps her cool, crosses her arms in front of her body, and replies with one eyebrow raised, "Yes, lovely. Tuscany, if I'm not mistaken. We start in Florence and go from there. Will take us quite some time."

Jane stands up, his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, a light scowl on his face, "Sienna is wonderful this time of the year, I've heard."

"Okay, what is wrong?" Lisbon isn't the most patient person, and although she's still pissed with her consultant, she's also curious why he behaves in such a passive aggressive way.

"Nothing's wrong!" Jane exclaims, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Italy sounds magnificent. Make sure you and Walter enjoy yourselves."

She's taken aback. Wasn't he the one who made her Walter's girlfriend in the first place? Wasn't this part of his scheme? Wasn't everything of this his own stupid idea? She's really confused, but at the same time she can also clearly see what's going on here, where this is coming from. Even though she's surprised and unsure if it's not only wishful thinking on her part.

"Are you …," she doesn't even know if she _should_ think something like that, let alone say it out loud, but it's too late, she _needs_ to know, "… are you _jealous_?"

"Meh, don't be ridiculous."

But his eyes tell a different story. Never before was reading his behavior so easy. Since when is Jane such an open book to her?

"Liar!" Lisbon therefore cries out frustrated, "Liar, liar, pants on fire!" She hates that she sounds like a five year old, but the man in front of her just makes her furious. What's _wrong_ with him?

Doesn't he know that not even all the Walter Mashburn's _together_ have any chance with her? That one Patrick Jane is all she needs?

Her eyes shoot daggers at him, her arms akimbo, and her whole aura screams frustration.

Oh god, how he _wants_ her.

And suddenly – from one moment to the next – all her frustration is gone. Her whole stance changes, arms falling to her side, eyes huge and confused, lips slightly parted.

"Did … did your pupils just dilate?"

Instead of answering, he simply steps forward, wraps his arms around her, and kisses her senseless.

* * *

**III. **

_How comes he always finds such dirty places to hide in? _

It's the first thing popping into her mind after she sees the dust on the old furniture up in the attic when she leaves after only two minutes of conversation with her consultant. So yes, it's not the first time she discovered that fact, but at least this thought makes her mind wander in a different direction than the last couple of hours (days?): Jane is attracted to Erica Flynn.

It would be a lie to say she's happy about it. Quite the contrary: she's pissed. And furious … in an aggressive, physically pain against Jane inducing kinda way. Not the first time in the last two days she needs to hold herself back to not connect her fist with this stubborn jaw of his. This man is so infuriating, a constant pain in the ass. How she would love to swipe this damn grin off his face.

This damn, stupid, maddening … _sexy_ grin.

Lisbon huffs about her own stupid line of thinking, reminds herself that she's standing above such trivial things like … she doesn't even _know_ which trivial things she's thinking of, so instead of following that train of thought she storms over to her office, closes the door, shuts all blinds (people know it's serious business when she does that), and starts to work on the huge pile of paperwork on her desk (most of it is thanks to him anyway). Rain splatters on the window to her right, and she huffs again, realizing the weather totally mirrors her mood, and she would give anything to be home at this moment, a beer in her hand and a football game on TV. Nevertheless she picks up the exquisite pen (another one of Jane's gifts, she realizes) and puts signature after signature under the forms.

It's not like she's _jealous_ or anything.

**oOo**

Jane admits that Erica is an attractive, sensual, seductive woman. He also admits that the kiss they shared – looking at it in an objective way, and after the initial shock faded – was good. Her lips were soft, and she smelled of roses and vanilla shampoo. He even admits that he slightly leaned in, even if it was unconsciously (that's the only thing he's not so happy about).

The fact that she escaped amuses him, too. Just a small voice inside him tells him to be annoyed that he didn't see the trap she planted to get away, but as Shakespeare already expressed so wisely: All is fair in love and war. Jane's sure this whole matter will be quite entertaining in the future.

But that's going to be it. Amusing, yes. Challenging, yes. But everything beyond that he's not even remotely interested in. His sight is set on another sensual brunette. One dear Erica has no chance against. In every possible way.

He sips his tea and stares into the rain, with his eyes following the droplets running down the glass of the windows, blurring the lights of Sacramento's skyline into one big blotch. A smile appears on his face when he thinks about Lisbon's reactions in the last couple of days whenever he only mentioned Erica Flynn.

The turquoise tea coup in hand he finally stands up and leaves the attic. He's not sure how long he was up there, but after thinking everything through he came to the conclusion that for the moment the matter with Ms. Flynn is closed, and that he really needs to pay attention to the important brunette now.

**oOo**

Lisbon doesn't know how she made it home, but when her lungs fill with the air of today's first relaxed breath she's relieved for not being in the office anymore.

It doesn't take long and she's dressed in her favorite ripped jeans shorts and the oversized football Jersey with the 99 on the back, a bottle of Heineken in her hands. She is just about to sit down on her couch and turn on the TV to find that football game she was thinking about earlier, when the uncommon desire to pamper herself over floats her. It's not like she felt insecure in the company of that devil woman, but when was the last time she took a relaxing bath? Or used deep conditioner? Or painted her toenails?

So instead of sitting down in front of the TV she puts her bottle of beer on the couch table and makes her way upstairs to do exactly the stuff she was just thinking about. A woman has her needs and Lisbon really feels like she has to fulfill them after such a long time. To hell with men and their stupid behavior around beautiful women. Nothing a lavender bath and a brush of red nail polish can't fix.

A second later a surprised scream escapes her, after she reached for her bathroom door and at the same time someone else opened it from the other side.

Her heart goes a mile a minute, not only out of surprise but also because Jane stands in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his hips, his skin and hair still damp from the shower he must have taken moments before. Why didn't she hear anything?

"Geez, Jane! You scared the life out of me!"

"Well, hello to you too, darling. I was wondering when you finally make it home." He smirks and she either wants to punch or kiss him senseless. Then she remembers the last couple of days and decides that punch it is. Even if it's only in the verbal kind of way.

"You have the nerve …," Lisbon grumbles, "… showing up here after everything that happened the last couple of days."

A second later she feels herself pushed against the wall beside the bathroom door, his body pressing into hers, his breath tickling down her neck while his lips brush over the shell of her ear. Instantly she feels the arousal, and curses herself for being so weak when it comes to Patrick Jane and him seducing her.

"Although normally the color looks lovely on you, this kind of green doesn't suit you, Teresa," he teases, his hands sneaking up her body beneath the football jersey.

Her breath gets heavy, but her pride doesn't allow it to give into him just like that. And by the way: How dare he bring up Erica Flynn in a moment like this?

"I'm not jealous of Erica Flynn, if you're implying that!" With every last bit of willpower she pushes him off her body, glares at him and storms away.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," he retorts to her retreating back, the amused tone still ringing in his voice.

Lisbon just huffs, but doesn't turn around to acknowledge him any further. She's just about to enter her bedroom, when his voice stops her in her movement.

"I admit it," he starts, "I admit that Erica Flynn is an attractive, sensual, seductive woman."

Lisbon turns around abruptly, shock and hurt on her face, her arms crossed in front of her body. But Jane isn't done yet.

"I enjoyed her company, she's amusing and challenging."

"Wow," Lisbon interrupts, a scowl on her face, sarcasm tripping from her voice, "You sure know how to handle your case and cheer a woman up."

The consultant ignores the quip of the senior agent, his smirk still around his lips, his eyes lighting up with amusement and joy, when he simply continues as if she never said anything, "But you seem to forget, love, that – in my opinion – _you're_ the _most_ attractive, sensual and seductive woman. And not only that, there's even one more thing that puts Erica at a disadvantage with you."

While explaining himself, he steps over to her and wraps his arms round her waist. This time Lisbon doesn't push him away, but she's not ready to drop the case yet. With a slightly raised eyebrow, her arms still crossed in front of her, she pouts and shrugs once. A sign for him to continue.

Jane raises one hand and slightly brushes his fingers over her cheek, "I'm not in love with her, of course."

Half a smile appears on her face and finally her arms wrap around him again. Damn those babyblue eyes. This adorable smirk. This experienced tongue (in every imaginable way). She's a lost cause when it comes to Patrick Jane. She was a lost cause ever since he stepped into Minelli's office all these years ago and flashed her that brilliant smile of his.

"Okay, you win," she finally admits, mischief sparkling in her green eyes, "I _was_ jealous."

"Oh," he grins, his lips inches from hers, "I love to win."

Her chuckle gets muffled by his kiss.

* * *

**IV.**

The bride is beautiful, a dream in silk and white. Eyes sparkle like the sun reflects on water, the smile is huge and blinding, the love is nearly palpable.

When Lisbon thinks about it, this was really long in the coming. The bridal couple had so many obstacles to overcome, to finally be here today. And although it never was easy, in the end they somehow made it.

After Hightower found out and gave them the ultimatum, Rigsby – atrabilious, but determined – packed his stuff and switched to the homicide unit at the San Francisco Police Department. Van Pelt felt guilty, Cho was surprised. Lisbon was _furious_.

Hadn't the both of them showed that their personal relationship wouldn't interfere with their professional behavior? They were a couple months before Hightower took over, and although everybody in the building knew about it, nobody was against it either. How archaic could CBI rules be?

Lisbon fought with teeth and nails to get Rigsby back, but without success. Rules were rules were rules were rules. Yadda, yadda, yadda. For the first time in her whole career Lisbon thought about ignoring protocol and simply hiring Rigsby back. She was a Senior Agent, she had the possibility to recommend someone, and in most cases these recommendations got considered.

Hightower was furious, threatened her with suspension, with breaking up the team for good, reassigning Van Pelt, and Cho, and yes, even Jane, to another unit, with downgrading her again to a junior agent.

At this point Jane had enough. He had enough of seeing Lisbon desperately trying, seeing her deep in thought all the time, seeing all of them miserable.

Lisbon doesn't know to this day how he did it, but a week later Rigsby stood at his table in the bullpen, unpacking his stuff with the widest grin she ever saw on him (until today of course). She was still a Senior Agent, her unit was still complete, they still worked cases together. They returned to be the most successful unit of the bureau. Even the one hour lecture from Hightower to watch her back, to be extra careful, and that she couldn't allow herself or the team one single slip, couldn't ruin her mood.

And now they are here. Even Hightower looks pleased, deep in conversation with Virgil Minelli and his second wife May. Ever since she and the team rebuild her reputation and spared her from time in prison after the Todd Johnson debacle she is way more amenable.

The neckline of her dress slips slightly again, and Lisbon curses silently. Normally she has nothing against dresses, owns a few herself. Okay, she doesn't really _like_ to wear them, feels more comfortable in pants, but she secretly loves it when Jane's look of adoration skims over her body, lingering on her exposed legs.

But this dress is awful. She feels like a pink pom-pom. Of course, she knows that bridesmaid dresses are supposed to accent the colors of the wedding, but _pink_? Couldn't Van Pelt go with black, or crème, or anything else but pink?

"You look lovely, darling." Jane's voice brings her out of her reverie, when he steps over to her, a champagne flute in his hands, casually taking a sip. He, of course, looks gorgeous. For once he's not dressed in his typical three piece suite, but wears his tux. And it's not only Lisbon who recognizes how handsome he is. Three of Van Pelts sisters and various other female guests already chatted him up, and he – always the charmer – made them swoon with his smile, and his wit, and his sex appeal. Ever since he took off his wedding ring a few months ago the ladies seem to think he's fair game again.

Lisbon watched amused from the side line, while she herself got approached by Rigsby's cousin Henry, one of the groomsmen, some guys from his former arson investigation unit, and some of Grace's old friends back from Iowa.

"I look hideous," she retorts nonchalant, again pulling carefully at the neckline, "What did Grace think about when she chose those dresses?"

Jane smirks while taking another sip, "Let's assume that her thoughts were solely on Rigsby."

"Ha ha."

"I still think you look beautiful, my love." He winks at her, while his free hand comes to rest at the small of her back. He pushes her lightly into the direction of the dance floor, and she lets him, although she's not sure what he's planning.

"Although I know that's not true, thank you for your afford."

The consultant rolls his eyes. She looks gorgeous and doesn't even know it, which makes her even more beautiful, but he knows every attempt to convince her otherwise is fruitless. All evening he had to stop himself from walking up to her, taking her hand, and kidnap her to an abandoned coat closet, or an unoccupied salon in the vicinity of the location the wedding reception is held in. But she is a bridesmaid and he is a groomsman, they have their responsibilities, and his Lisbon always is one for rules and proper behavior.

A waiter passes them and he puts the empty glass on his tray, stopping their walk at the edge of the dance floor. At the same moment a new song starts and suddenly Lisbon knows exactly what he had planned.

"So, you wanna dance?"

The Senior Agent decides to have a little fun. She's in a playful mood, enjoys herself although hating the dress, and simply wants to have a little bit of that flirty banter with her consultant she came to enjoy immensely in these last years. Therefore she just shrugs, and slightly shakes her head, before replying, "Nah, I'm good."

"You sure?" he chuckles.

"Of course."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire. Or in this case: dress."

Lisbon rolls her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her body, "Sometimes you are so annoying."

"Sometimes?" His eyebrows are raised, amusement written all over his face. He can't help to push her a little farther on the dance floor, knowing that she's only playing a game.

"Geez, Jane …" Another eye roll, but she doesn't protest when they start to walk again.

"Come on, Lisbon!" he pleads playfully, "I know every cell in your body screams at you to dance with me."

"You wish." It's her turn to chuckle now.

"Of course I wish," he states, almost like a matter of fact, "They play our song after all."

And just like that he once again manages to take her breath away. Lisbon abandons her little game, flashes him a brilliant smile, and follows him the last steps on the floor. His right arm slips around her, while his left hand carefully wraps around her fingers, before they start to sway to the familiar tune.

"Funny thing we had a song before we had anything else, isn't it?"

Of course he has to ruin the moment with one of his antics. Lisbon pulls back slightly and gives him her _'Are you serious?_'-look, with one eyebrow raised and the lips slightly parted.

"Jane? Shut up."

He chuckles again, his grip on her getting tighter, before leaning his head against hers and whispering in her ear, "Certainly, dear. Whatever you want."

* * *

**V.**

Red John's last breath escapes his lungs, and everything is silent. Nobody moves. He lies in a puddle of his own blood, three bullets in his chest being the cause of it.

Lisbon stands still, her gun still raised. Still pointing at the serial killer they searched so long for. She doesn't want to take a risk, tells herself she will only lower her weapon when somebody capable told her he's really dead. In the corner of her eye she sees Rigsby doing the same, while at the same time talking calmly into his earpiece. She's certain it's to assure Van Pelt that he and everybody else is okay. In her condition she's not allowed to go out in the field, which makes her worry about her husband and the rest of the team even more.

Cho walks past Lisbon (also with his gun raised), kneels down beside Gerald Pasadina – Red John's real identity – and finally announces to everyone, "He's dead. Red John is dead."

With these words the serial killer is no longer of interest for her. She halters her gun, and turns around, her eyes frantically scanning the surrounding.

When CBI, FBI and the SWAT teams waited to first enter the old linen factory, she nearly puked out of worry. Jane was to enter first. He was the decoy, so to speak. He looked like someone alien, in his three piece suit, the blond curls a mess, the eyes full of angst and at the same time full of determination, surrounded by all those agents in black. While she strapped him into the bulletproof west and secured the earpiece, checking everything at least thrice, her hands shook slightly, and tears were pooling in the corner of her eyes. She hated to be so unprofessional, and normally this would never happen with the always in control Senior Agent Teresa Lisbon. But the circumstances were different. This wasn't any other case. So when she started to check for the fourth time, Jane stopped her by taking her hands in his, and she allowed it. She didn't care what people around her thought in this moment, ignored the curious, surprised looks around them. She virtually could hear their thoughts.

_Lisbon and Jane are an item? When did _that_ happen?_

She simply didn't care.

"Stop worrying," he smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Just be careful, okay? Don't do anything stupid. And please … don't get in the line of fire."

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted playfully and she swatted him over the arm. Afterwards his face turned serious again, and taking a last breath he pressed his lips for a short second to her forehead, before turning around and heading into the factory.

And now it's over. After eight years of agony, of suffering through all kinds of setbacks, of nearly losing hope to ever catch the devious psychopath, they finally did it: Red John is gone.

And so is Patrick Jane, it seems.

Lisbon searches for a glimpse of him, but after Cho's declaration everybody came to life, and suddenly a hundred people buzz around. It's impossible for her to see, to find him.

"Did you see Jane?" She asks Rigsby when she finally makes her way over to him, but the man simply shakes his head. The same with Cho a few moments later.

Lisbon starts to panic. Is this it? Is this how everything ends? Red John is dead and Jane leaves without a goodbye?

She hurries outside, where even more people swirl around.

And then she catches a glimpse of the blond curls. Without hesitation she runs in the direction, her gaze glued to the spot where she discovered him, afraid he could vanish when her eyes leave him even for a second.

Finally she stands in front of him. He sits on one of the boxes beside a SWAT vehicle, leaning with his arms on his knees, his head bend down.

"You're okay?" It's the first thing coming to her mind, and she thinks never before has something sounded as stupid as this question. Of course he's not okay.

"I'm fine," he replies nevertheless, but doesn't look her in the eyes.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire." Lisbon tries to lighten the mood. She sits down beside him, but doesn't dare touch him. It's not her call.

But it's him who makes the decision anyway by taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss on the back of it. Half a smile appears on his face when he takes a first look at her.

"Then why did you ask?"

The CBI agent sighs and finally raises her hand to softly brush her fingers through his hair, "Because I really want to know how you're doing."

"I'm shocked," he admits, "Surprised. Angry. Relieved. Happy. Sad. Whatever. I'm not sure, Lisbon."

He looks so broken; she nearly can't hold back her tears. But at the same time his whole appearance looks … _free_. The tension in his shoulders seems gone; the dark shadows normally casting his eyes suddenly disappeared.

Lisbon is surprised; Jane all of a sudden looks 10 years younger. Tired, yes, but it still feels like a whole mountain has been lifted off his shoulders in the last half an hour.

"So, what now?" she finally asks, eyes questioning his every move.

"Now," Jane replies, "we go home."

It sounds so matter of fact, the woman really doesn't know if he has registered yet what has just happened. Nevertheless she also feels relief washing over her. Jane sits calmly beside her, and nothing feels awkward or strange. He holds her hand tightly; his thumb brushes over the back of it, while he leans with the other arm on his knee.

"Together?"

Jane turns his head in her direction and looks surprised, "Of course together. Why? What were you thinking?"

And he takes the wind out of her sails with this simple question. Her whole being feels cozy when he asks her this, but a small voice inside her still needs further confirmation. They chased so long after Red John, and now that he's really gone, she needs Jane's reassurance that he'll be fine. That he won't go anywhere. That this is it for him. That she really is his _after_, like he told her once.

Therefore Lisbon briefly closes her eyes and then explains, "I just thought you might want to be alone at the moment? To think about what just happened? Get your head cleared? I thought you might not want to have me around right now."

"Why wouldn't I want to have you around?" His voice is once more full of surprise.

"I don't know, Jane," she sighs, "Maybe to mourn? To be with your family? I … I really don't know."

And she doesn't. All of a sudden this whole conversation seems ridiculous to her. Of course they want to be with each other. They waited so long for this moment, had so many ups and downs because of it, and now that it's over where else would they want to be?

Suddenly the panic she felt before seems even more ridiculous than this conversation.

"I really want to have you by my side right now," Jane interrupts her thoughts, "That's all I want at the moment."

"Okay."

And Lisbon means it. Her hand brushes through his hair again and she presses a kiss to his temple. It's everything she wants at the moment too.

And so they keep sitting side by side, ignoring the people around them and simply _be_ with each other. Her hand never stops touching his hair, her lips remain pressed to his temple, her eyes closed tightly, and Jane just breaths. In. And out. And in. And out again.

"Teresa?"

It feels like hours have passed before he speaks again, when in reality only a few minutes went by.

"Yes, Patrick?"

Lisbon never calls him Patrick in public, but this moment feels so private that _'Jane'_ just appears too impersonal.

"I love you," he states calmly, but determined, "I _always_ want you around me. Please never doubt that again."

"Of course," she reassures him immediately, the first and only tear escaping her eye, "I'm sorry, darling. I love you, too."

* * *

**I.**

"I'll be home soon. I promise. And I can't believe I'm going to say this, but you were right, this seminar is really useless. I can't believe this will take another two days," Lisbon may not be able to see it, but she _feels_ the smirk on his face, even though he's 2,000 miles away. She also knows that the _'I told you so._' is on the tip of his tongue. His chuckle reaches her ear.

"You know I'm not that kind of a person who says 'I told you so' …"

"Yeah. Sure," she scoffs, grinning, her eyes scanning the crowd gathered in the grand lobby of the hotel in New York. It's a long time since she saw so many police and law enforcement officers at one place and the same place, she somehow feels like being thrown back to her time at the academy.

"… but, as I would have told you before you so rudely interrupted me, maybe this seminar is just what you needed."

"How come you're suddenly encouraging this? As far as I remember you were totally against me coming here. Something about _'what should you learn at a seminar about team leadership when you successfully leaded your team for nearly a decade now_'?"

It's his turn to scoff, but the smile is noticeable in his tone, "I'm not talking about that obnoxious seminar. I already told you to sign yourself in and then skip that nonsense and explore New York City instead. It's beautiful in fall, dear."

She laughs, "And I already told you, that this trip is work related and not for my entertainment."

"Ah, we both know you totally would've skipped the last two days if I would have been there too."

"But you're not, so I keep attending the workshops." The coffee break is nearly over, and that somehow disappoints her, for she really enjoys their conversation over the phone. Maybe even more so because they haven't seen each other in nearly a week, and – heaven forbid he finds out about that at any point – she really hates to fall asleep when he's not there.

"No. No, I'm not," he pauses and Lisbon raises her eyebrows in confusion.

"You alright?"

"Of course. I'm just … hang on, darling, there's something … excuse me?! … I'll call you back, Lisbon. Later, babe."

And suddenly the line is dead. Lisbon looks at her phone a little puzzled, but then shrugs and puts it on vibration only again. The participants already stream back inside for the next speech, and the Senior Agent decides to do the same, mentally reminding herself to give him later an earful about the _'babe'_.

**oOo**

The last seminar ends at five in the evening, followed by a dinner, but Lisbon's not in the mood for more chats about law enforcement, so she decides to skip the meal and heads upstairs to her room to change into something more casual to _'explore the city'_, as Jane put it so nicely. She exchanges her dress pants with jeans, her blouse with a shirt and scarf, her blazer with her beloved black leather jacket, and her pumps with her comfortable boots. Not five minutes after she entered her room she's back downstairs.

She's just heading to the front door when she hears from the direction of the hotel's lobby bar several women giggle and applauding. Subconsciously she turns her head to take a look, when she halts in her movement and turns fully around to the counter. Lisbon blinks twice, not trusting her sight.

Is he really sitting there, surrounded by a bunch of women, or is she just hallucinating because she hasn't seen him in a couple of days? Then she sees the coin in his hand and knows that it's _really_ him.

"Jane?" The surprised call of his name makes him turn around, and with a huge smile he claps his hands together once and exclaims, "There she is! The ladies here nearly didn't believe that you really exist. Took you long enough, love." He turns once more to the women surrounding him, smiles charmingly and apologizes, but his lady-boss arrived now, and he wishes them all a pleasant evening, before bringing his attention back to the baffled Senior Agent.

She registers that he wears semi-casual clothes, jeans, a white dress-shirt with a dark-grey vest above it, and the matching suit jacket. His whole demeanor is relaxed, just like he belongs here, while she feels like she just walked into a movie scene.

"What … what are you doing here?"

"You look lovely, dear," he turns to the bartender for assurance, winking once, "Doesn't she look lovely?" The man behind the counter just smirks and nods, before heading to another customer.

Lisbon's astonishment still hasn't faded.

"Why aren't you back in Sacramento?"

At this Jane huffs playfully, pulling her closer by the corner of her jacket, til she stands in between his legs, "Really, Lisbon. Sometimes it's no fun at all to surprise you. And by the way: Do you really think this is a proper way to greet your husband, Mrs. Jane?"

And to the disappointment of every single female in the lobby bar, Lisbon laughs out once, mutters something about _'You're so crazy'_, steps even closer to the barstool he's sitting on and gives him – in his opinion – the proper greeting of a wife.

When she pulls back from the kiss, he smirks at her, brushes a strand of her hair from her face, and continues, "Well, now that we've settled the matter of welcome, how about we grab some dinner?"

And with this he stands up, slings his arm around her shoulders and leads her to the hotel entrance, pressing a kiss to her hair on the way outside. Lisbon grins, simply nods, and wraps her arm around his waist while easily falling in step with him.

**FIN**


End file.
